Lighthouse Tales
by Mertiya
Summary: Lavos is defeated, but the Black Omen is not. Magus has returned to the snowbound land beneath Zeal and is building a lighthouse to find Schala. One windy night, someone knocks on his door, someone who will change his life forever.
1. Prologue: The Madman on the Mountaintop

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Cronotrigger, but Maria is mine. Although she doesn't have a name until around chapter three.

**A/N: **Please R&R! And no flames please, but I do appreciate constructive criticism. If you don't like Magus/Lucca pairings, don't read it. Actually, there are other pairings that I prefer myself, but this story sort of demanded a Magus/Lucca pairing. Anyways, read and (hopefully) enjoy:)

**Prologue: The Madman on the Mountaintop**

"_A night bright with stars…_

_whose ghost is this whispering:_

_shall I light the lamp?"_

_--Etsujin_

A man stood on a tall, icy peak overlooking the blue-gray sea. His pale blue hair rippled behind him in the chill wind; it was unadorned except for some strips of beaded leather wrapped into it. The man's red eyes gazed outward stonily, bleakly, as though for the thousandth time. A voice, the memory of a voice, echoed in the man's head.

_"Schala, promise you'll never leave."_

_Soft laughter. "I promise, little brother. Tell you what, if I ever do, keep a light burning for me, and I'll come back. I promise, Janus. No matter what, if you keep a light burning, I'll see it, and I'll come back."_

"Will you, Schala?" the man whispered, the man no longer known as Janus but Magus. "Will you return?" He turned away from the sea and to the spectators who were grouped in a little ring a few feet away, huddling together for warmth. "All right," Magus said, his voice colder than the howling wind. "The first ring of stones will be placed where you are standing. I will help lay the foundation. Let's begin!"

The people obeyed silently. Stone after stone was brought up from the quarry, as morning faded to afternoon, and afternoon to evening. As the darkness set in, Magus looked around at his helpers. "You may go," he announced dispassionately. Most of the works began to trickle away immediately, but one of them, a girl of about eighteen, hung back. "Um…Sir Magus," she ventured. He turned his blood-red eyes on her and she quailed. "I just wondered if you'd be coming down with us."

"No," he answered.

"But it's so cold--"

"I said, 'no'." The utter scorn in his voice was enough the girl go hot and cold all over. She flushed red and backed away. "S-sorry," she mumbled and turned and went pelting after the others who had just left. Magus didn't spare her a glance. He moved into the ring of stones which had been laid that day, which afforded scant protection against the cruel wind. He raised a hand and muttered, "Flammate." A rose of fire blossomed in his hand; he set it on the snow and made a brief widening gesture. The rose broadened into a column of flame that melted the snow for several yards back. Magus could, at that point, have safely gone to sleep, for his power would have kept the flames in check, even in his sleep, but instead he turned his impassive face toward the sea and watched the restless waves.

* * *

There were tales told in the last village below, tales of the madman on the mountaintop. He paid the villagers well, so they did as he instructed, but his gold did not keep tongues from wagging, nor did he appear to care whether he was the subject of gossip or not. There were many different stories in the village about who he was, where he had come from, and what he was building and why, high up on the snowy cliff. He was clearly one of the former Enlightened Ones--his blue hair and the leather braided into it belied that. But everything else about him was open to surmise. 

There were some who said he was a great magician, cast out before the fall of Zeal, who had wandered across the frozen wasteland and helped engineer the catastrophe that befell the city of the Enlightened Ones. They said he was building a tower where he would shut himself up forever in disgust at the human race.

Then there were others, who maintained he was not a man at all, but an angel who had been cast out of heaven for his crimes, and who was now building a stairway to bring himself as close to his former home as he could.

And then, there were the stories told among the former Enlightened Ones themselves. There were whispers about the mysterious Prophet who had appeared in Zeal before its fall. And a wise few remembered the little Prince, Janus, who had disappeared and was presumed to have perished. If he had not perished, they said, if he had lived out his life somewhere else altogether…another dimension, a place where time passed more quickly--and he had returned, then what? But even they could not fathom why he should be building something on top of a cliff which faced the sea, something which resembled a tower more and more as the days wore on.

The winter lasted for a long time, nearly two years, as the dust from the shattered cloud-cities of Zeal slowly cleared. As the light from the sun began to filter down, unhindered, to the surface of the earth, the snow began finally to melt, and some hardy flowers began to poke their heads out. The tower on the cliff was at length completed; it was a tall, tapering, white building, with a top room that was made of glass--a lighthouse. The talk in the village about it began to die down; they rarely thought of the taciturn sorcerer who appeared only to buy food and supplies every three months. In fact, life went on its merry way, for everyone except Magus, who spent his days with his memories and his nights with his searches, his lamp, and his hopes. For a year, his solitary routine did not change, and in some things, he seemed a man frozen in a day of time, a cycle he was unable to break.


	2. An Unexpected Visitor

**Disclaimer: **Enter Magus, looking annoyed. Magus (snappily): Alenida doesn't own me or anything else to do with Chronotrigger, except Maria and some random villagers. Despite this fact, I have to do her disclaimers for her.

**A/N: **R&R! Please:)

It was somewhere between dusk and dawn. Magus didn't keep track of the time any less fundamentally than that. He was sitting in the lighted top room of the tower, staring out as the beams of light from his lighthouse swept out across the sea.

_I've done as you said, Schala,_ he thought. _I've kept a light burning._ _Please come back_.

There was a muffled knocking at the door, a long way below. He leapt up and was flying down the stairs almost before he had even recognized the sound. Even so, by the time he had reached the oval room on the landing, the sound had ceased. Hardly daring to hope, Magus flung the door wide open--and a girl was standing there, a girl who crumpled to the ground as her support was taken away. For a wild minute, Magus believed the impossible had actually happened--that Schala had returned.

But even as he dropped to his knees next to the girl's limp form, the hope that had flooded newly into his heart ebbed back, crushed. The girl, though approximately the right age, wore clothes that could not be from this time period, and the long hair that was escaping in little wisps from a water-logged braid was not blue but purple. Magus blinked at the girl's face. It seemed familiar, and yet not familiar.

"Lucca…?"

The eyes blinked, behind the characteristic horn-rim spectacles. The bridge of the glasses had snapped, digging into Lucca's nose, and twin dots of blood were visible where the jagged edges had broken the skin. One of the lenses was gone, and the other was shattered across with a spider web crack. A slight smile appeared on Lucca's face. "H-hi, M-magus," she croaked. "I-I--" her head fell backward as she collapsed back into unconsciousness.

For a moment, Magus debated what to do. Lucca was no concern of his. She was not even of his time. He would be perfectly justified if he just left her outside his door. She could make it to the village or not, as her strength dictated. But…he looked down at her, struggling to remain emotionless. She was quite like Schala. What if it had been Schala, and he had been a total stranger? Would he want Schala dumped outside in the early spring, to freeze to death or starve, if she lacked the strength to make it to the nearest village? Magus looked down at Lucca and grimaced. Then he sighed, a long-suffering sigh, and scooped her up. She was surprisingly heavy, and he grunted in annoyance as he staggered to the bed with her. He dropped her on it and surveyed her again.

She was soaked through. Her soft, brown leather jacket was heavy with moisture, as was her skirt of the same material. Underneath the skirt were brown leggings made of a kind of clumsily woven cotton cloth. Under the jacket was a loose purple blouse, which, although made of businesslike linen, flattered her hair. The helmet he had been accustomed to seeing her wear on her head was nowhere to be found. Magus was faced with the uncomfortable realization that he would have to get her into some dry clothes. He himself only had one change of clothing, and he did not relish the idea of undressing her. What could he do?

Magus sank into a chair next to the bed and thought. He could get the worst of her wet clothing--the leather--off and then repair to the village and hire a girl to undress, bathe, and dress Lucca, as well as lend her some clothes. All in all, that seemed to be the best plan. Resolved, Magus got up and bent over her. He would not be gone long. Though his hope grew fainter with each passing day, tonight might be the night of Schala's return. He sighed and shook his head, reaching out and plucking Lucca's ruined glasses off her nose. Then he reached for her jacket.

* * *

Magus strode into the store where he usually bought all his supplies. The girl behind the counter looked up and then started in surprise. He was at least a month earlier than usual. His eyes traveled up and down the girl's form, making her blush. 

"You are the right size," he said in a businesslike tone.

"What?" gasped the girl.

"I need help. You'll be paid, of course," Magus said impatiently. He brought out a bag of gold and dropped it carelessly on the counter. The girl's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. That amount was what the sorcerer generally paid for all of his supplies. Magus' red eyes scrutinized the girl's face, and he pulled back his thin lips to form a calculating smile. "Every day," he continued. The girl reached out her hand to touch the bag as though afraid that it might shatter.

"You'll need to bring a change of clothes for yourself and for another girl. That's all."

Slowly, she nodded.

* * *

Lucca found herself to be conscious again. She had a pounding headache, and the last thing she remembered was seeing Magus. She blinked her eyes open and found herself staring at a world very blurred around the edges. _My glasses--where are my glasses?_ She reached out with a groping hand, but found nothing except blankets. "Ow…" she whispered. "M-magus?"

"Sir Magus!" a strange voice called. There was a blur of motion across the room. Then Magus was bending over her; at least, she assumed the white blur with the smudge of blue at hair level and red at eye level was Magus. A hand was pressed to her forehead.

"The fever's down." It was unquestionably Magus's cold, unemotional voice.

"I can't see anything," Lucca complained.

"Oh, that's right," Magus moved away and returned with something in his hand. "I tried to come up with a reasonable facsimile of your glasses, which are quite unusable."

"Th-thank you," Lucca stammered as he put the whatever-it-was onto her nose and eyes. The world swam tenuously into focus. Magus was looking down at her without an ounce of expression in his pale face. Behind him, a girl was standing, looking nervous and out of place.

"You can go, Maria," Magus said to the girl. "If I need you, I shall know where to find you."

The girl turned without a word and left. Lucca sighed and stretched. "What happened?" she asked.

"I should be asking _you_ the same question," responded Magus with a frown. Lucca frowned at him. "I asked first." She knew she was being childish, but she was tired and her head hurt and she didn't _care_. Magus moved backward stiffly and crossed his arms. "You knocked on my door one night about a week ago," he began and related to Lucca how he had taken her in and found Maria to help him care for her, at the same time relieving Lucca of some nasty speculations about how she had ended up in a nightdress in the first place. "Now I believe it's your turn," he said, looking down at her.

_I wonder why he even bothered trying to help me_, Lucca thought. _I'm surprised he didn't just leave me outside to die_. _Oh well. Who knows why Magus does what he does?_

She took a deep breath and began.

"Do you want to know what started it all? It was the Black Omen, of course, and Queen Zeal. Ten years after we defeated Lavos in 1999 A.D., she decided that it would be a great idea to try and conquer Truce and the surrounding villages. Crono, Marle, and I decided we would have to stop her. So we accordingly set off to do just that. Of course, we couldn't take Epoch; that's been unusable for several years, and though I've been working on fixing it, I just don't seem to understand it well enough. We took a normal helicopter instead. That's a flying machine they have in my time.

"When we reached Black Omen, though, we couldn't seem to get in. It wasn't like there was a protective barrier or anything that I could detect; we just couldn't seem to get in. Just when we thought we'd better turn around and go home and try again another day, Marle's pendant started glowing like crazy. Next thing we knew, we were all enveloped in a cloud of blue light, which took us into the Black Omen. At the time, I didn't understand at all, but now I think I might. But that comes a little later in the story.

"Well, unfortunately, our pendant-entrance had alerted Zeal, and she had about a hundred soldiers of hers on hand to capture us. Crono, Marle, and I are good, but we're not _that_ good. We ended up being tossed in prison with the threat of interrogation hanging over us--Crono and Marle must still be there. I managed to cobble together a parachute using sheets off our beds and some rope I'd sneaked in with me. There was only enough for one parachute, though. We found a vent near the top of our cell; I think the cell was only meant to be used for one person, because we set up a sort of human ladder and managed to get me out. The idea was that, since I'd made it, I'd be able to make the best landing with the parachute. Only something went wrong.

"Crono and Marle got me out the vent, and I managed to open my parachute as I fell, which was a relief because it was very hastily made, and I really don't want to think about what would have happened if it hadn't opened. I drifted downward, and, all of sudden, there was a wrenching, nauseating feeling. A rainbow of colors flashed in front of my eyes, and suddenly, there I was, floating downward in the middle of a raging storm I was sure hadn't been going on when I left. Then I looked down and saw the sea, a very long way below me; from the amount of foam gathered on the wave caps; the waves were very tall indeed. It was freezing cold, and the rain was coming down in torrents. I didn't know what to do.

"Then I caught sight of the light from your lighthouse, and I tried to steer the parachute toward it. I made it, but I had to cut the parachute free, because otherwise I would have been blown right off the cliff. I knocked on your door, and you know what happened after that."

"You still have not explained how you could be jumping out of the Black Omen in your time period one minute and then falling from the sky in mine the next," Magus said, stiffly.

"Well, I have an idea," Lucca admitted. "Remember how we couldn't get into the Black Omen? I think it's shifted out of temporal sync with the rest of the timeline; in essence, I think it occupies five or six time-periods simultaneously. It's in a sort of time-bubble."

She lay back on the bed, exhausted. The long speech had obviously tired her. Magus turned to leave. She plucked at his sleeve. "I wonder--" she murmured with what she suspected was her last ounce of strength. "I wonder if you'd help me rescue Crono and Marle?"

Magus didn't say anything; he merely nodded.


	3. Death Threats

**Disclaimer:** This time Lucca wanders out. She appears to have lost her glasses. "Alenida does not, in fact, own us," she says. "I only do her stupid disclaimers because she took my glasses. Oh, and Alenida owns Maria."

**A/N: **I apologize for this being an incredibly short chapter, it's just that it seems to work out best this way. I will try to update again pretty soon, but I won't be able to until at least Tuesday due to the fact I'm going to look at colleges. Wish me luck:)

**Chapter Two: Death Threats**

It was a week later. Lucca was well rested and debating with Magus as to how they should get to the Black Omen. Magus, after his initial nod, agreed to help only when he had managed to re-employ Maria to stay at the lighthouse when they were gone. He refused to give up on Schala. Now they were preparing to leave.

"Magus--before we go, there is one thing I want to know."

"Yes?" He turned to her without much emphasis.

"Why didn't you just leave me outside to die?"

Magus' red eyes flashed angrily. "You want to die?" he snapped, hefting his scythe over his head and then, in a blur of speed, whipping it forward until the cold metal was pressed just against Lucca's throat. "Because I can oblige," he continued, his voice soft and menacing. Lucca's hand groped for her gun, Wondershot, but she cursed under her breath when she realized it was lying on the bed, out of her reach. She glared at him, trying to disguise the fear she felt rising in her face. He snorted and brought the scythe away. Lucca stepped quickly to the bed and gathered up Wondershot, turning in one fluid motion to point the gun at Magus, who convulsively clutched his scythe.

"Now," Lucca said steadily. "You are going to tell me why you didn't just leave me to die. I don't trust people I don't understand. And I certainly don't trust people I don't understand who threaten me with scythes."

"You're not going to fire that," Magus said icily.

Lucca's finger tightened on the trigger. "Try me."

Magus snarled, but obviously saw that she was in earnest. He sat down on the bed and turned his head away from her.

"I thought of…Schala…" he said in a low voice, somehow choking the words out.

"Oh." Lucca's eyes dropped to the floor. "I'm sorry," she whispered. The gun drooped a little. Suddenly, Magus' hand was at her throat, crushing her against the wall. His other hand had her gun-arm pinned. "Never point a gun at me," he hissed. Lucca, gasping for breath, stared into the angry red eyes and realized suddenly that he was a good deal angrier at having been forced to answer the question and reveal his emotions than about the gun she had pointed at him. The eyes, behind the anger, were full of sorrow. Lucca stared back, still trying to get breath through her throat.

After locking eyes with her for several minutes longer, Magus dropped her to the ground, where she at against the wall, massaging her neck, on which she suspected several bruises would be manifesting themselves before long. Magus was still breathing hard from anger and exertion. Lucca simply glared at him, and, surprisingly, his eyes dropped first.

"Shall we go?" Lucca asked, icily polite.

A grunt was her only reply.


	4. To the Black Omen

**Disclaimer: **Maria sidles out shyly. "Hello, everyone, I get to tell you all that Alenida doesn't own Chronotrigger, even though she wants to. She does own me though--" (shooting a glare somewhere off to the side) "--which is why I do her stupid disclaimers for her!"

**A/N:** I forgot to mention in the Prologue that "Flammate" means "Burn," but I'll try and make sure I have translations in future. Now, to make up for the extremely short second chapter, here comes a much longer third chapter. Enjoy!

**Chapter Three: To The Black Omen**

Magus stared angrily at Lucca as she pulled her boots on. How dare she? How _dare_ she force that confession out of him? Lucca's long purple hair fell forward in a businesslike braid over one shoulder. A second later she shook it back and stood up. "Ready," she said calmly. Magus allowed a smile to force his thin lips apart. He moved toward her and, without warning, grabbed her around the waist and flung her over his shoulder. Lucca screamed in surprise and rage and, as he took off, her fists and feet beat a tattoo against his shoulder, but he ignored it, holding her down with one arm.

"Let go of me!" Lucca yelled. Magus curled his lip in scorn and abruptly dropped her. Lucca cried out, but before Magus could catch her again, she yelled, "_Columna flammae_!", her voice muffled by the howling wind. Twin pillars of fire shot from her hands to splash redly against the black ground. The momentum kept her from falling freely, though she was slowly sinking groundward. Magus sighed, grudgingly admiring of her skill. An instant later he had scooped her up, his arms supporting her neck and the back of her legs.

"Better?" he asked laconically. She glared at him.

"This isn't getting us anywhere," she growled breathlessly.

"On the contrary, my dear Lucca, we are rising steadily toward the distant Black Omen," he replied, with a smirk.

"You know that's not what I meant!"

"Really. What did you mean, then?"

"I meant this fighting. It's getting us absolutely nowhere!"

"What would you suggest?"

"A peace treaty! A truce! Whatever you'd like to call it!"

Magus shook back his long blue hair, and the beads in their leather strips rattled against one another. "Very well," he said. "I promise not to crush you against the wall anymore if you promise to refrain from asking _personal_ questions. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Lucca held out her hand to Magus warily. Equally warily, he took it, curling the hand that was supporting her back around it and inadvertently pulling her closer to him as he did so. Lucca didn't seem to notice, but Magus did, and he pulled back quickly. Lucca's eyes suddenly focused upward, past Magus' head. "Look!" she exclaimed. "The Black Omen!"

"How did you plan to get in?" Magus asked. Lucca frowned. "I suspect you'll be able to get in with no trouble."

"What do you mean, you foolish girl?"

She sighed. "I mean that you're related directly to Zeal. So it probably will be possible for you to reach it without the pendant."

Magus shrugged. "I suppose it is worth a try."

He flew straight toward the Black Omen, which was a huge dark splotch, blotting out the sunlight like some bloated tick grown fat on the blood it leeched from others, a parasitic shadow on the sun. As he reached it, a door in its side swung open with a hollow creak. Lucca grinned. "See?"

Magus snorted but did not reply. Instead, he set Lucca carelessly down on her feet and gripped his scythe. "Next time I'll go for the piggy-back," Lucca murmured to herself, her hand already resting lightly on Wondershot. Magus moved into the door. "Now where are they?" he asked. "So that we can get them and go?"

"Shhh," Lucca quieted him with a finger on her lips. She moved toward the side of the passage, where she hooked her fingers around a panel and pulled back hard. The panel chunked loudly as it popped out of its place and Lucca staggered backward under the sudden weight.

"What are you doing?" Magus asked, taking care to keep his voice low.

"Getting us into the air supply, so we can get to Crono and Marle without alerting the entire ship that we're here. Now come on." She ducked inside the panel, motioning to Magus to follow her. He sighed and did so. By the time he straightened up she was already moving hand over hand up a series of steel rungs riveted into the thin passage. Holding his scythe tightly between his shoulder and his chest, he followed her.

They soon found themselves crawling down the air duct, a passage made of metal and so narrow that Magus was forced to push his scythe along with one hand. The air supply hissed past his face like a scented breeze, and he felt a deep thrumming underneath his hands--the faraway hum of the engine. They seemed to have crawled for interminable ages and the dark closeness began to get to Magus, though he would not have admitted it to Lucca for anything. Magus was used to the wide-open plains and sea he roamed over in the night, and the open glass of the top room of his lighthouse where he sat the rest of the time.

Lucca stopped suddenly, and Magus, lost in his own thoughts, crashed into her, knocking her down. She scrabbled and managed to regain her balance, turned her head and glared at Magus. He turned away, knowing that it was his fault but not feeling himself capable of apologizing.

"We're going down now," Lucca whispered, sounding breathless.

"I had gathered that," Magus replied with his maddening equanimity.

"Yes, well, follow me," Lucca continued, with a slightly irritated tone in her voice. Soon they were slipping down another flight of metal rungs, through the cool dark air.

"Why should they build ladders into the air supply?" Magus questioned scornfully, shaking his head.

"Maintenance," Lucca replied with a distracted tone in her voice. She had stopped again, and judging from the clanking sounds, was attempting to remove another panel. After a minute, she stumbled backward, and Magus, flinging out his arms reflexively, found her deposited in them. He set her quickly on her feet, as she looked as if she didn't know whether to glare or thank him. She finally settled for a quick, "Thanks," before ducking through the panel and motioning for him to follow.

They were standing inside a small cell, dimly lit with watery sunshine that leaked in through a tiny barred slit high in the wall. A man and a woman were lying near the wall, to all intents and purposes, asleep. The man was flat on his back, his red hair matted and tangled. He had a smudge of dirt along one cheek, and the skin around one eye was the blue-black fading into yellow-brown of a healing bruise. He was wearing loose, baggy trousers of brown leather and a ripped, dirty, white shirt. The woman lay with her head pillowed on the man's shoulder, her long, honey-blond hair spreading out under her head. Her freckled face was pale and drawn, and she had a long scratch across her nose, the skin around it still pink and inflamed. She was wearing long, white baggy trousers, coupled with a frayed white blouse.

"Crono! Marle!" cried Lucca, running over to them. The pair stirred and started to wake up. "Come on, quick," Lucca knelt beside them. "We've got to get out of here!"

"Unh…Lucca?" Crono blinked and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, sitting up. "Wow! You made it--" he stopped suddenly as he caught sight of Magus standing in the corner, quiet and motionless. "What the--where'd he come from?"

"No time to explain now. We've got to get out of here!" Lucca replied, helping Marle to her feet.

The blond woman was dazed with sleep, but she was beginning to recover. "No," she said quickly.

"What? Why not?" Lucca exclaimed, irritated.

"There's someone in the other cell," Crono explained, getting to his feet. "We've heard Zeal go in there--I think the girl could have been here for awhile. We have to rescue her."

Magus stepped forward, the scorn plainly written on his pale face. "Far be it from me to disparage the heroic instincts you have doubtless cultivated," he began condescendingly. "Nevertheless, I must point out that leaving with all rapidity would be the most sensible course."

"We can't just leave her!" Lucca growled, swinging on her heel to glare at Magus.

"And we haven't got time to bring along someone who may be an invalid, for all we know, or dying," Magus snapped back.

"Look, you can leave. We're not going," Lucca replied hotly, the angry flush spreading across her face.

Magus smiled with the air of one who has complete control of the situation. "Without me, you are trapped here, Lucca. Don't forget that."

Eyes glittering with angry fire, Lucca stepped up toward him, balling her fists. "And what if this girl were Schala?" she hissed in a low voice that only Magus could hear. Magus' eyes flicked to the ground, and he ground his teeth together.

"Very well," he muttered ungraciously.

"Come on," Lucca said. She led them to the airvent. "It's a good thing that it's possible to open these at all, at least from the outside."

They crawled through the vents for just a moment or two, stopping when Lucca pointed out the entrance to the next cell. She yanked at it, but it was stiff, stiffer than the last one had been, probably rusted. "Ungh," she grunted. "Could I have a little help?" she asked, not looking over her shoulder.

"If you insist." Magus placed his hands over hers and yanked hard. This time, with both of them straining at it, it finally gave up the unequal struggle and popped outward, with the result that Lucca and Magus went over in a heap. Lucca extricated herself from the mess, blushing, and Magus picked himself up with a glare. Then he stepped toward the opening to look into the cell, a supercilious smile on his face. It vanished in an instant.

"Gods…" he breathed.

The girl lying in the cell was only a few years younger than Lucca. Her face was pinched and white, and her eyelids had a bluish cast about them. She was thin, almost emaciated, and the skin of her face seemed to be almost stretched across her skull, the cheekbones were so prominent. Her blue hair was tangled and matted into tangled locks that fell about her tired—her tired and oh-so-familiar—face.

"Schala…" Magus whispered, unbelieving. In an instant, he was in the cell, kneeling beside the girl; his hand was on her wrist, feeling for a pulse. It was there, not too faint. He shook her gently. "Schala!" The eyes blinked open, the deep purple eyes that had haunted Magus' dreams for the last twenty-five years. Groaning, Schala sat up, pressing her hands against her temples and looking at Magus in bewilderment.

"Who are you?" she managed. The question, though expected, still tugged at Magus' heart-strings. He choked, trying to answer.

"Wait…you're the Prophet, aren't you?" she asked, peering into his face and drawing back. "What are you doing here?" She pulled herself together and sat upright, though she looked utterly exhausted.

"I-I am the Prophet," Magus managed in a voice that was cracking badly. "But I'm not just the Prophet. I was--flung out of time, Schala, S-sowomea." When Janus was younger and had just begun to learn Ancient Zealian, he had somehow discovered that "Soror mea" meant "sister mine" and, though he couldn't pronounce it any better than "sowomea" it became Schala's nickname.

Schala stared at him and reached out with a trembling hand. "It is you," she whispered in a voice which was beyond astonishment. "But you don't feel--there's so much darkness inside of you--what happened to you?"

Magus turned away, desperately trying to blink back the tears rising to his eyes. "I was lost--for a long time--I can't tell you now, we don't have time. We need to leave quickly."

"Of course, of course," Schala managed a smile, just before Lucca's startled yelp, "Too late! We've got problems, people!" Magus dragged Schala to her feet and pulled her out the vent. Lucca, Crono, and Marle were already running, as fast as they could, away from the guards which were even now sounding the alarm.

They raced down dark, twisting passageways for what seemed like forever, before Lucca screamed, "There's the exit!"

Magus and Schala rounded the corner a few seconds after the first three and stopped cold. Looming in front of them were three giant troll-like monsters, with green skin and brown eyes shining with blood-lust. "No problem; these guys we can take care of," Lucca sniffed, grabbing for Wondershot. As if on cue, the floor rumbled and about ten more giant troll-like monsters rounded the corner.

"Uh oh," Lucca squeaked. "Or not," she admitted nervously.

Schala, standing weakly by herself with her hands on the wall, gasped, "If you escape, I can hold them off! I've still got my pendant!"

Magus rounded on her. "Are you insane? I'm not leaving you!"

"You'll have to, or we'll all die. I don't dare do what I plan on doing with all of you here."

Magus ground his teeth together, trying not to show the agony he felt boiling up inside of himself.

"I'll be fine," Schala's eyes were commanding. "Don't you remember what I said? If you keep a light burning, Janus, I promise to return to you."

He swallowed hard. "Cross your heart?"

"Cross my heart."

"Come on!" Magus yelled to Lucca, Crono, and Marle, and the four of them made for the exit, Marle tossing the pendant toward Schala, who caught it and straightened up. It began to glow, dimly at first, then brighter and brighter. A low hum began to grow louder and louder. With no time to open the door, Lucca screamed, "_Columna flammae_!" over the rapidly growing whine of the pendant. The flame that burst from her hands melted through the door, leaving only a smoking hole in the side of the ship. "Jump!" called Magus, and everyone obeyed. Marle and Crono grabbed each other; Lucca, screamed and shut her eyes. Magus twisted his head and stared backward as the Black Omen lit up with a light brighter than any the sun could produce.

"Schala!" he yelled, but there was no answer, and far away, very far away, heard Lucca's cry to Marle, "Antipode! We have to use Antipode to slow our descent!"

Magus did not turn his face away from the ball of light that had been the Omen, but gradually everything seemed to grow darker and darker, and finally he slipped away into a black, quiet place of nothingness.

* * *

When he woke up, he panicked. There was no light, and there should have been. Wasn't he in the lighthouse? Who had turned off the light? Schala would never make it home! He thrashed wildly, trying to tear off the encumbering sheets, so that he could run up the stairs and turn the light on— 

"Magus! Magus!" It was Lucca's voice. "Stop, don't move!"

"Lucca--who turned off the light? What about Schala!" He tried to throw his feet out of the bed. "Magus!" Her hand was on his arm. "Stop moving. Nobody has turned the light out. It's still on! Do you hear me? It's still on!"

* * *

Translation(s): "Columna flammae": "column of fire" 


	5. Blind

**Disclaimer: **I don't own it, except Maria.

**A/N:** Sorry it's taken me so long to update, I thought I'd wait and see if it got accepted on first. (For those of you who don't know, icybrian is an excellent site for video game fanfiction.) But as it has neither been accepted nor rejected and it's been several months, I figure I'll just keep updating here for the moment.

**Chapter Four: Blind**

Lucca watched compassionately as, by the flickering light of the candle that illuminated the room, she saw the disbelief pass across the wizard's pale countenance. "Is there--a light on in this room?" he asked, his body tense, his face stony and as unemotional, she assumed, as he could make it. She felt a tear welling up in one eye, but brushed it away. If there was one thing Magus couldn't stand, it was pity. But--Lucca wished he could have found out a different way--and yet, what other way could there have been? Maybe this was best.

"Yes. There's a candle burning, Magus," she responded quietly, and watched his face twitch with emotion.

"What happened?" he asked finally, his voice raw.

"The light that the Black Omen was emitting was very high in the more detrimental forms of UV radiation. In essence, it was as if you'd gone out and stared into the sun for a day."

"I--see."

Lucca felt tongue-tied, uncertain what she should say. Finally, she blurted, "Um, are you hungry? Or thirsty? Would you--like me to get you anything?"

"Get out. Just--get out."

Anger warring with pity in her, Lucca obeyed.

* * *

In the days that followed, Lucca watched as Magus learned to fend for himself in a now-darkened world. She understood that he didn't want any help, so she didn't offer any; in fact, she stayed out of his way when she could, and just made sure he didn't accidentally walk off the tower or anything. She wasn't entirely certain whether he was aware of her presence.

She wasn't really sure why she was staying behind; Crono and Marle had already left, pointing out that if Magus wanted solitude, he should have it, and besides, he was pretty unpleasant and evil all around. Lucca couldn't leave, though. Somehow, she kept remembering gazing deep into his blood-red eyes and seeing the awful pain that was hidden in them. Now the eyes were no longer blood-red, but dimmed to a pale purple, that gazed fixedly straight ahead the whole time.

Lucca was uncertain what was responsible for the change. On the other hand, Janus, when she'd seen him as a boy in Zeal, had had purple eyes, so maybe the burning they'd suffered had reversed a chemical change that had occurred.

Lucca wasn't sure how long she could keep up watching over Magus, though. He was currently sitting in the doorway to the lighthouse, his sightless face turned out to the sea. He never seemed to do anything else. Lucca could certainly sympathize with him, having lost his sight, and probably his sister after having had her back for five minutes--Lucca was sure Schala had to be dead, no matter what she'd said to Magus--after all, hadn't she promised to return? Why would she not return, if she were alive? Well--there was one slim hope Lucca could think of, but she refused to acknowledge it, even to herself, because if it were wrong--well, then Schala was dead, and there was nothing else to be said.

But Magus really needed to snap out of his depression. There were limits. Lucca remembered only too well when her mother had died, two years ago--it had been living hell. She had tried so hard, had done so much for her mother, and then--to have her die as she had--Lucca still refused to think about it. But the point was, Lucca had had to pull her life together again. It had been the hardest thing she had ever done, but she'd done it. Magus didn't seem to have the same spark of determination.

Lucca had got up her courage and decided to confront Magus. It was now or never. If it didn't work, she was just going to leave. She was going to turn her back on him and let him curl up into a ball and die by himself, since that was all he seemed to want to do.

She walked up behind him. "Magus," she said loudly. He didn't respond. Lucca rolled her eyes. So he probably had known that she had been there, the whole time. "Magus," she said again. Still no answer. "Fine, I don't care if you talk to me or not, as long as you listen. A lot of bad stuff has happened to you. Yes, you're blind. Yeah, Schala might be dead. But do you think she'd want you to respond like this? To run away and hide someplace inside yourself? I'm fed up, Magus, and if you don't start to show a little backbone soon, I'm leaving. I've nursemaided you for long enough. So I guess this is probably goodbye."

For a minute, Lucca thought she saw Magus start to move, but then he settled back into his chair, and she gave a half-angry, half-sorrowful sigh, and walked out the door past him. One glance back showed her that he hadn't moved from his spot. Lucca shook her head and hurried on faster.

Once she'd made it down to the village down the mountain, she had to admit to herself that she had no idea where she was going. Crono and Marle had gone off somewhere to try to find a way back to their own time, but she hadn't heard anything more from them, and didn't know if they'd met with any success.

"Great," Lucca said and sat down on the ground to think. Absently, she pulled Wondershot out of her belt and started to play with it. She was very tired. In fact, she hadn't realized before just how tired she was. It wasn't long before her eyelids started to droop, and soon after that, she was curled up on the cold ground, sleeping as deeply as if she'd been in her own bed in Guardia.


	6. Rescue by a Handsome Stranger?

Disclaimer: Sigh. I still don't own Chronotrigger, despite the fact that, yes, I would like to.

A/N: Okay, I admit it, I forgot I was still uploading this story. --Blush.-- But it's here now, right? So enjoy!

**Rescue by a Handsome Stranger(?)**

She was awakened rudely, by a rough hand on her shoulder. Sleepily, she blinked her eyes and found herself staring into a man of about age thirty, with dirty-blond hair who gazed at her with beer-clouded green eyes. _Uh oh_, thought Lucca, rolling over and grabbing for Wondershot. It was gone. In consternation, she searched the ground for it, and then saw the man grinning at her, obviously pleased with himself.

"Got your little toy in me bag," he grunted.

"Yeah, well, you'd better give it back, punk," responded Lucca, with a bravado that she didn't feel, especially since her magic was completely drained, she realized.

"Maybe I will," he drawled slowly. "Maybe I will. You're a fetching little girl, did you know that?"

_This is worse than monsters_, thought Lucca as the man bore down on her. "Stay away from me," she growled tensely.

"Who's gonna make me?" His sweaty hand was reaching for her shoulder. Lucca drew back a foot, aimed, and kicked out hard. The man let out a squawk of pain and doubled over onto the ground. "I said, stay away from me!" gasped Lucca angrily, feeling adrenaline pounding through her veins.

"Hey, Burt, mate, what's the matter?" came another drunken male voice from the dark. _Oh, gods above,_ Lucca's mind wailed, as she clenched her fists. _How did I get myself into this?_

She backed hastily away, only to find two more of them coming at her from behind. She kicked out quickly, catching one of them a glancing blow, but the other pinned her arms behind her, and try as she might, she could not wriggle free.

The man named Burt managed to pull himself off the ground, his face clenched with pain. Lucca tried not to display the fear she felt and managed a defiant smirk. "Aw, did the poor baby get hurt?" she said. It earned her a stinging blow on the mouth from one of his companions.

"What'll we do with her, Burt?" asked one of them.

"I was goin' to have a little fun with her, but I think now I'm gonna test me new weapon on her. No one kicks me and gets away with it!" From his bag, he plucked Wondershot, which Lucca saw was set on kill. She tried not to scream, bracing herself for an exceedingly painful death…_At least he's not going to 'have some fun with me' before he kills me…_

"Put her down," said another voice, silky and eminently more cultured than the voices of the drunken men who had accosted her. It seemed somehow familiar…

"She your girlfriend, kid?" grunted Burt. A man stepped out of the shadows, tall and pale, with chin-length blue hair and a black cloak. He was quite young, no more than nineteen, Lucca's age. Burt laughed at the sight of him.

"'Cos if she is, maybe I will have a little fun with her. Take him, boys."

Two of his friends lurched toward the newcomer, who stared at them with a peculiar smile on his face. "I'm warning you, I wouldn't try anything," he said softly. They paid no attention to him, but kept coming. The young man shrugged and muttered something under his breath, raising his arms above his head. A twisted blob of blackness began to form in front of him. Lucca stared. "_Magus_?" she whispered. But it couldn't be…he was too young…but that spell…it twisted outward, quicker now, swallowing the two men in it. Lucca faintly heard their yells of pain and saw the spell moving outward toward Burt and the other men. "I suggest you let her go," said the person who couldn't be Magus but had to be. "Haw," Burt said nervously, grabbing Lucca and shoving her in front of him. "You wouldn't dare!"

"You do not give me enough credit for control of my spells, my good man," said the young man silkily. "Now, do you know what this will do?" he asked pleasantly. Burt clutched at Lucca so hard she thought he might be cutting off the circulation. His breath was on her face, and she turned her head aside, nauseated at the stench of stale beer.

"It will freeze the very marrow of your bones," went on the blue-haired man. "And then you will slowly disintegreate, from the inside out. It's an extremely painful death."

"You wouldn't dare," repeated Burt.

The black mass rose and started to drift toward him. "Try me," smiled the man, his pointed teeth glinting in the moonlight. Burt gave a strangled yelp, dropped Lucca and began to run. The man's face twisted. "Idiot," he said. The blackness rushed out in a wave. Lucca faintly heard a scream.

"Did he really think I'd let him go?"

He hurried to Lucca's side. She was slumped on the ground, shivering violently. "Lucca!" He knelt beside her. "Oh, gods. He didn't--"

She shook her head and then burst into a violent passion of sobbing. Her rescuer reached out as if to hug her and then drew back, as if not sure he should. Lucca, still sobbing, flung herself into his arms, and he folded them about her, holding her as if she were a child, but a little awkwardly.

"You-you're safe now," he stammered.

"I know," Lucca choked, trying to get command of herself. "I'm sorry." she wiped the tears from her eyes. "I know." She took a few deep breaths. "It's just--oh, _gods_--I was so frightened!"

"I don't wonder," he answered grimly. "I should think anyone would have been."

"Now," Lucca said firmly, though not without a slight shudder. "Who are you?"

He shrugged. "Magus."

"But--"

"You were quite right," he continued. "It merely took me some time to see it. I was blinder than I had thought. My apologies, my dear Lucca. Then, naturally, I had a brain wave."

"Naturally," she agreed, a little shocked at the change in him. He seemed so much gentler than before. _And, gods, talk about handsome!_ a part of her brain whispered. Lucca blushed and shoved the thought away.

"I remembered that dark magic mixed with light magic is equivalent to time magic. There's a girl in the village who can use light magic. The only way to cure my blindness was to reset my biological clock, as it were. It is a dangerous procedure, which is why most do not attempt it, and it also requires more skill than most possess. However, I decided I would rather be dead than blind, and I, fortunately, do possess the requisite skill."

"I'm excessively glad you didn't die," Lucca said between sniffles. "I guess it would all have been up with me if you had."

"It is a relief to me, too, I must confess," Magus responded.

"Why did you come after me?" Lucca queried, looking up at him, and feeling another blush building on her face. A regenerated Magus really _was_ quite handsome. His eyes were still purple, not red.

"You did more for me than I deserved. I wished to ensure you knew that I was suitably grateful."

"I am very, very glad you did."

"Now, since it is cold and unpleasant out of doors, I suggest we repair to my tower."

Lucca nodded, still shivering enough to make her teeth chatter ever-so-slightly.


	7. Rejoicing and Sorrow

**Disclaimer**: Geez, this is getting annoying. Well, I don't own Chronotrigger. Big surprise.

A/N: Not much to say--just, I LIKE being mean to Lucca and Magus. Enjoy! Sorry about the cliffie again, I'll try to upload soon.

**Rejoicing and Sorrow**

When they got back to the lighthouse, Lucca collapsed into her bed, meaning to sleep through the rest of the night. It couldn't have been more than two or three hours later, however, when she woke to a pounding on the door below. She rolled out of her bed, feeling very much more her normal self, though still with a slight nervous shiver running down her spine. She pounded down the stairs into the bottom of the tower, to find Magus yanking the door open.

It was with a curious sense of _déjà vu_ that Lucca watched as the door was flung open and a girl--not herself, this time--crumpled into the room. It was with a curious pain in her heart that she watched Magus' face twist with a concern she knew she'd never seen before, except in that fleeting moment when she had toppled in, and he hadn't recognized her. _Don't be silly_, Lucca told herself sternly, as she saw Magus bend over Schala's limp form and pick her up gently in his arms. _I do not care whether he cares about me one iota._ But, from the miserable sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she knew it wasn't true. _Oh, I can't be in love with Magus! I just can't!_

Somehow, she managed to force her mouth and throat to form words. "Magus, do you need help?" she called down the stairs. His pale face, pinched with concern, turned up toward her. "Find the brandy!" he called, barely even sparing her a glance. Trying to tell herself she absolutely _did not care_, Lucca ran back up the stairs, knowing that he kept a bottle underneath the lamp in the top room.

She ran flat out, appearing back in the downstairs room utterly out of breath. "That certainly took you long enough," Magus snapped.

"If your tower weren't so damn tall, I would have been faster!" she retorted, angry and hurt at the same time as she handed him the brandy. Magus didn't respond, only turning back to where Schala lay, half-conscious, on the couch near the door. "Schala, Schala, it's all right, you're safe…" he whispered.

Lucca almost thought she could feel her heart breaking. _Stupid, stupid,_ she berated herself. She had slipped out the doorway before she even realized what she was doing.

* * *

Magus worked anxiously at Schala, giving her a sip of brandy, and rubbing some onto her wrists. Slowly, so slowly, her eyelashes fluttered. "Janus?" she murmured in a low voice.

"Schala…" He didn't know how to react. Somehow, seeing her again, after so many long, long years--the time spent as the prophet didn't count--he felt vulnerable and uncertain as to how to react.

"Janus?" she looked exhausted. Suddenly, her eyes opened properly and she smiled and threw her arms around him. "Oh, little brother," she whispered in his ear. "How I've missed you."

He buried his head in her shoulder. "Schala," he murmured. "Oh, Schala…"

She smiled, but looked bewildered. "Janus…" she said slowly.

"Yes?"

"You seem suddenly younger than three minutes ago when you rescued me from the Omen."

"Three…minutes…" Magus gaped at her.

Schala blinked. "Well, yes. I told you I'd get here as fast as I could."

"Schala, it's been, it's been _months_!"

"Months…?" The word trailed from her lips.

"Months! I--I thought you were dead--"

"Oh, Janus, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed. "I must have been flung out of the Omen into a time months after you were--I never thought of that!"

"It's all right--you're here now--oh, Schala--"

"Where are the three other people who were with you?"

"Crono and Marle went back to their own time--they're from the future--and Lucca should be right--" Magus looked around. No Lucca.

"What the hell?" he exclaimed, irritated. Where was she? Apparently nowhere, he decided, after a quick hunt through the lighthouse. He groaned. Hadn't she learnt anything from the last time?

"I think she just left," he told Schala grimly. "I'd better go after her."

"Why did she do that?" Schala asked.

"How should I know?!" Magus snapped and then colored. "I'm sorry, _soror mea_. I just thought she'd stopped doing foolish things. She did this already and nearly got herself killed. So I'd definitely better go after her."

Schala nodded. "Don't worry, Janus, I'm all right," she smiled.

He nodded, grabbed his cape and scythe and made for the door, wondering why in the world he was so worried about that idiotic girl.

* * *

Lucca sat glumly on a rock with rain pouring down on her head. Her purple hair was flattened against her head, and her hands were so cold it was painful to move them. _Man, I'm being **so dumb**!_ she thought. _I should just go back and pretend nothing's wrong._

But somehow she couldn't bring herself to go back and watch Magus's loving concern, all of it directed at Schala, with him snapping at her if he noticed her at all. _Why would you fall in love with **Magus**, of all people?_ she berated herself.

She shook her head, near tears. _What am I gonna do? Well, I can't stay here. I'll freeze to death._

Sighing, she got up and started slowly toward the village.

* * *

Magus plodded through the streets of the village, frowning and wishing that he hadn't needed to waste all his magical energy flying down here against the wind. Why was he out here in the first place? The girl could take care of herself. She presumably didn't want him following her, or she wouldn't have left.

He shivered. It was cold outside; his hands as they gripped his scythe were numb. What had that cursed girl been thinking of, coming out of doors in weather like this? There was a noise behind him, and he whirled, scythe out, but his cold hands were clumsy and the scythe was painful to move. The swing was feeble at best.

A man was standing behind him, his face twisted into an unnatural shape. He was holding Lucca's Wondershot.

"What the hell?" snapped Magus, trying desperately to feel his fingers holding the scythe.

"Been watching you," the man said in a hoarse voice, a voice Magus thought he recognized. His eyes widened.

"Yeah, it's me. Burt. 'F you leave someone for dead you should really finish the job."

"Well, I'll finish it now," snarled Magus.

"I don't think so," Burt said thoughtfully. "You seem pretty tired. I don't think your magic'll be working real well. And this gun is a pretty weapon."

"Put it down," Magus said, his voice full of as much command as he could muster.

"Not likely. I owe you one."

He squeezed the trigger, and a ball of electricity blossomed on the end for a millisecond, before shooting out toward Magus. He managed to halt it with the blade of the scythe, but the jolt that ran down the wet weapon caused his numb hands to released their grip. The scythe clattered to the ground, and Magus winced at the pain in his arms. He saw Burt's twisted face smirk. "Not so cocky now, eh?"

Burt's finger tightened on the trigger again. Magus tried to dodge to the side, but he was stiff from the first jolt and tired out, and he didn't make it. As the electricity ran like flame through his body, he heard a pain-filled shriek--his?--and a yell in the background and--did he really see a wall of flame engulf Burt, who screamed and disappeared? He couldn't tell, and there was no breath in his lungs. Magus felt himself crumple to the ground, his hand falling onto the cold metal of his scythe.


	8. Kisses in the Rain

**Disclaimer**: Yes, I don't own it. Moving on...**  
**

**A/N:** Er...haha, sorry everybody. I sort of thought I'd uploaded all of this and, well, turned out I hadn't. In fact there's still an epilogue to go. My sincerest and humblest apologies. Enjoy!

**Chapter Seven: Kisses in the Rain**

Lucca had been sheltering in the doorway of a closed shop when she saw Burt walk past. _He's alive?_ she thought and shrank backward into the doorway so he wouldn't see her. She heard his footsteps splash down the street and then halt. There was a low murmur of voices, but Lucca couldn't hear what they said because of the loudness of the storm.

After a moment or two, Lucca stepped out of the doorway, intending to see if she could slip away down the street without Burt seeing her. Logically, she knew she could easily defeat him, now that her magical energy was not drained, but emotionally she thought she might be sick if she were forced to confront him. She glanced both ways down the street, in time to see the scythe clatter to the ground and then, a moment later, the bullet of electricity hit Magus full in the chest. Almost instinctively, through a horrified stupefaction, Lucca yelled, "_Ardete_, _flammae maximae_!" (1)

As the huge wall of flame burst from her hands, she saw the electricity crackle through Magus, saw him spasm and fall to the earth, spreadeagled on the ground in a position Lucca had never seen a living person assume.

_No, no, no_, thought Lucca, running forward. She scooped up Wondershot in her skirt as she ran past Burt's corpse, staring as her gun hissed and smoked when the red-hot metal touched the sodden leather.

In no time at all she was kneeling beside Magus, her breath coming quick and short to her lungs as she saw that Magus's chest was no longer rising and falling. With a frozen hand, she tried to feel if his heart was beating, but her hand was numb, and she couldn't tell. Desperate, Lucca laid her head against Magus' chest and felt sick with fear when she realized his heart wasn't beating.

_Damn Magus for wearing a shirt without buttons!_ her brain screamed. Her cold hand were shaking as she ripped his shirt open at the front and grabbed the still-steaming Wondershot in both hands, thinking grimly that numbing cold wasn't always a bad thing. She pointed the gun at Magus's chest and sent a second jolt of electricity through his body, dropped Wondershot, and, laying her head against his bare chest, gasped with relief as she heard the heart start up again. She leaned over, but even without doing so, she could see he still wasn't breathing.

_Oh great_, thought Lucca with mixed feelings as she bent, pinched his nose between two fingers, pressed her lips to his, and blew. _I'm glad I know CPR, though_, she thought fleetingly as she took a moment to pause for breath. So absorbed was she with her task that it took her a second to hear the faint sigh as Magus's lungs began to function by themselves. His eyes snapped open just as the realization hit Lucca, but before she had time to pull back. Her lips were still brushing his.

Blushing furiously, Lucca yanked her head back. "You, uh, you weren't breathing," she mumbled. Magus sat up, slowly and shakily, pulling his ripped shirt around him.

"You saved my life," he commented stiffly.

"Oh, I guess, yeah, but you saved mine the other day," she stuttered, flushing.

"I daresay you deserve my thanks," he continued.

"Oh--that's okay," Lucca managed, trying very hard not to notice that she was sitting _right next_ to Magus with his shirt half off. Magus cupped her chin in his hand and tilted her face up toward his and, bewildered, she didn't resist. It was only when his lips actually touched hers that she realized he was kissing her. Utterly confused, with a rush of conflicting emotions flooding her, Lucca kissed him back.

"I'm afraid," Magus said, while Lucca stared at him, completely floored, "that despite the fact you are a contentious, stubborn, idiotic girl, I have--" he coughed, gasping for the breath he'd so nearly lost forever, "--fallen in love with you."

Lucca, trying to prevent herself from grinning like an idiot, retorted, "Yes, well, despite the fact that you're an arrogant, supercilious, pigheaded curmudgeon, I'm afraid I've fallen in love with _you_."

As Magus bent over her again, he took her freezing hands in his. Lucca yelped in pain, and Magus, surprised, blinked down at her hands and saw the angry red welts that were already forming on the otherwise dead-white flesh.

"What happened?" he asked. Lucca looked at the ground.

"Your heart wasn't beating," she responded quietly. "I had to get electricity into you quickly, so I used Wondershot. It was still kind of hot."

"Let's get back to my lighthouse," Magus suggested. "Which you so idiotically left before you had properly met my sister. She should be able to help."

By the time they had reached the lighthouse, it was still raining, but the rain was no longer chill, but pleasantly warm. Lucca looked up at Magus, laughing, and exclaimed, "You know, I think Mother Nature is spying on us!"

Magus said nothing; he only bent forward and cupped her chin in his hand once again.

(1) "Burn, oh greatest flames!"


	9. Epilogue: Shall I Light the Lamp?

**Disclaimer: Me no own Chronotrigger. Me own goodly grammar when me likes.**

**A/N:** Okay, here is the end. Finally. Yes, I know it's just a tad sad, but I might be writing a sequel. Otherwise, well, poignant is okay, too, right?

**Epilogue: "Shall I Light the Lamp?"**

Crono and Marle were lying together on a grassy hilltop. It was sunset, and a cool night breeze was just beginning to whisper through the treetops of the nearby Guardia Forest.

"Crono!" called a voice, sounding very familiar.

Crono, lying in a pleasant, half-dozing state, could not place it immediately. He sat up leisurely, yawning, and brushed lazily at the back of his head to get rid of the various bits of verdure that were clinging to it. He was then promptly knocked flat on his back as Lucca rounded the corner at a full speed run and tripped over him, sprawling inelegantly on the ground.

"Lucca?!" exclaimed Crono, sitting up. Marle sat up too, amazement and welcome glowing in her eyes.

"Hey everybody!" Lucca exclaimed, sitting up with a gasp and a blush. "I finally made it back and I just had to find you!"

"Come to think of it, why didn't you come back sooner?" Crono asked. "We left you a note."

"Did you? It must have gotten lost. Took me ages to figure out how to get back to this time. Anyway, I've got news!"

"News?" queried Crono. "What sort of news?"

For answer, Lucca reached into her pocket and yanked out two envelopoes labeled 'Crono' and 'Marle.' She shoved them at the bewildered pair and said, "Read."

It was a card. "You are cordially invited," Crono read aloud, "to the wedding of Lucca Ashtear."

He did a double take. "You're getting _married_?" he exclaimed, shocked.

"That's, like, so cool!" Marle cried excitedly. "I'm so happy for you, Lucca! Who's the lucky guy?"

Lucca went red and said, "Wlsmblgbls."

"What?"

"Er, Magus," she whispered, her cheeks warming as she watched her two friends' open-mouthed stares.

* * *

Shimmering faintly, the Gate out of which Crono and Marle had stepped vanished slowly. 

"Oh, Crono," sighed Marle, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. "Wasn't their wedding romantic?"

"Yeah," Crono agreed, but he sounded distracted. His eyes were fixed on a point near the horizon.

"What's the matter?" Marle asked. Crono scratched his nose curiously.

"Do you remember that tower ever being there before?" he asked softly, pointing to where something cast a tall, dark silhouette against the setting sun. Marle looked surprised. "I don't exactly know. Let's go see what it is."

As they came closer, she exclaimed, "Why, it's Magus's lighthouse, of course!"

"Of course," Crono smiled, about to turn away, but something made him pause.

"Let's explore it," he said to Marle, who shrugged and followed him toward it.

In front of it were two old stone graves standing side by side. Crono felt a shiver run down his spine as he approached them. Marle followed. Crono knelt in front of the two rounded tombstones, wearing smooth from years of erosion by sun, wind, and rain. He squinted at the inscriptions. On the first, barely visible, were the the words. "Lucca Ashtear. Mage, engineer, wife, mother. She will be missed." There followed, "Born ----, died 30--." The year of birth was worn away, as were the last two number of the year of death.

Crono felt a lump building in his throat as he turned to the second. "Janus Ashtear," he read. "Mage, warrior, husband, father. May you find in death that which you lost in life. Born ----, died 31--." Here, too, the same numbers were missing.

"What's the matter, Crono?" Marle's voice said behind him.

"Nothing," Crono responded, turning to her. As he did so, he noticed that the once-white stones of the lighthouse had been blackened by the fury of an ancient fire.

"I was just thinking," Marle said, with an obliviously happy sigh. "Wasn't it sweet of Schala to give Lucca and Magus her pendant as a wedding present?"

Something stirred in Crono's mind, and he gazed contemplatively at the rich, red-blond locks of hair that framed Marle's pale face.

"Marle…" he said slowly.

"Yeah?"

"Do you dye your hair?"

"What? Oh, yeah. I thought you knew that. Some stupid tradition or other. All the Guardian royalty have to dye it this color."

"What color was it before?"

"I can show you. When I got my last haircut before they dyed it, I saved a little and put it in a locket. No real reason, I guess, except future nostalgia, maybe."

"Can I see it now?"

She shrugged. "Sure." Reaching inside her dress, she fished out a battered old locket, which she opened. She dumped the contents into Crono's hand. He stared at the hair in his hand, barely moving. As the sun glinted off the rich violet color, he thought he faintly heard a cry of pain and rage that transcended millennia and, fainter still, little more than a whisper, a girl's voice, familiar, yet not, "Shall I light the lamp?"


End file.
